And When
by WhatsABriard
Summary: 50 companion drabbles to complete "Say When". Canon compliant through the Christmas Special. Robert and Cora face an uncertain future...together. Updated daily.
1. Introduction

And...When

_50 companion drabbles that follow "Say When". They begin with episode 1 and will follow series 1 & 2 and include the christmas special. _

_Thus continueth my love letter to the Robert/Cora ship. _

Big thanks to all of you who've stuck with this and left reviews - you rock. To the other authors in the fandom, please continue to be awesome. You're feeding the beast!


	2. 51: Grave

There is no body in Patrick's grave.

Instead the box is filled with all their hopes and dreams. Mary's future. The fate of Cora's fortune.

It all stands to be buried beneath the crushing loss of a young man they were all fond of.

Mary appears indifferent, Edith is broken and Sybil mourns quietly.

Fear grips Cora as she hovers over her girls, terrified of what this means for them.

On the way back to the house Robert can't bring himself to look at the structure itself. It is that which he loves and hates all in the same heartbeat.


	3. 52: Machine

Just as suddenly as unsinkable slips below the surface of the Atlantic, so does Cora's complacency.

She is confronted with a familiar foe, mostly forgotten but never far away.

The damn entail.

For the first time in nearly fifteen years, she legitimately fears for the future of her daughters. She has no interest in bestowing a title on Mary, Edith or Sybil. Happiness and the fortune she brought to this country is all she wishes for her girls.

With the timing and precision of a well-oiled machine, Violet arrives and summons her.

"To discuss matters," which is Grantham-speak for _plotting_.


	4. 53: Destination

Despite the distress of Patrick's passing and accompanying complications, Robert and Cora continue their daily walks. They have come to rely on routine to sort them through disaster. Cora draws strength from those quiet moments and outside of the bedroom, it was when they speak most freely.

Cora is confused when Robert steers them off the path and into a copse of trees.

"Robert?" So much meaning in one word; he is well aware of her disquiet over recent events.

Beneath dappled green shadows he embraces her and reminds her that it is the journey, not the destination, that matters.


	5. 54: Nowhere

They are later than usual returning to the house and the Dowager is waiting on Cora impatiently.

One look at their rumpled attire and flushed cheeks tells Violet all she needs to know about their tardiness. In many ways she is relieved that they have managed to hold onto that passion; it would make the coming years easier for the both of them.

"Where have you been?" Violent inquires of Robert after Cora excuses herself to freshen up. The question is a matter of form, and she tries to look disapproving.

"Nowhere." Robert replies cheerily, and kisses his mother's cheek.


	6. 55: Garden

Perhaps they won't be friends, but Cora and Violet are to be allies.

They have individual reasons for their unholy alliance but the purpose is the same: to see Downton in the hands of Mary, not a middle-class near stranger.

Violet doesn't bother defending the actions of her husband, and Cora doesn't hold Violet accountable for them. They have, indeed, come a long way.

With their two heads together, in the fashion of only women in their position can manage, they will sow the seeds of change and hopefully they will soon tend a garden of renewed opportunities.

Crawleys beware.


	7. 56: I Know

In bed that night, Cora presses her ear to Robert's chest and allows her breathing to sync with the rhythm of his heart. It tortures her to know that they may be working at cross-purposes, he to protect Downton and she to protect Mary, rather than remain unequivocally united in intent.

There is much to say and many obstacles to overcome. It is as though Robert senses her tension and runs a soothing hand down her back.

"I'm very sorry about this, my love." He says finally.

She is silent for a while before answering. "I know. So am I."


	8. 57: Dust

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Lovely words with no real-world application. Nobody ever talks about how _heavy_ corpses are.

Ripped from sleep, informed of her daughter's indiscretion and asked to move a dead man (a Turkish diplomat!) across the house, it's safe to assume Cora's night is not going well.

None of that is the true source of her disappointment, however. Being forced to lie to Robert is the deepest wound of all.

She returns to their room and watches him sleep, looking so young in slumber, and attempts to convince herself that it is all for the best.


	9. 58: Dream

Watching Violet and Isobel brings a great deal of amusement to the daily life at Downton. They posture like angry cats, yowling and hissing and puffing themselves up at the slightest hint of battle.

Though they would never dream of revealing it to anyone, Robert and Cora often wager on the outcome of any given altercation.

Cora, a perennial optimist and champion of the underdog, finds herself on the losing end often. Robert, on the other hand, never bets against the house.

Fortunately for Cora, her husband is a benevolent winner and seeks to make his (many) victories mutually enjoyable.


	10. 59: Destiny

It's infinitely fascinating for Cora to watch Violet get suited up for war.

Abandoning their tea they march to the hospital with purpose, although Cora's role is strictly observational.

Later, alone in their room, Cora acts out the afternoon for Robert and despite himself he nearly weeps with mirth. His wife's impression of the Dowager is eerily accurate.

She collapses beside him in giggles, settling with her head on his belly, and when she catches her breath asks, "Do you think it was always my destiny to be your mother's lieutenant?"

Robert's pained expression merely tickles her all the more.


	11. 60: Spring

There is something of a spring in Robert's step as they approach the hospital for the ceremony. In Cora's estimation he rarely looks this unabashedly pleased with himself outside the bed chamber.

They are the last to enter and Cora pauses Richard outside with a gloved hand on his elbow.

"Try not to look too smug, Darling." She says and brushes dust from his lapel, a single eyebrow communicating both her amusement and concern.

"Consider it a little payback for all she's put us through." He answers with a grin and a kiss to her cheek.

Perhaps they'll celebrate later.


	12. 61: Sigh

There is nothing about Robert's appearance that doesn't please Cora, not even after all these many years.

He is older and a bit stouter. His silver hair simply makes him appear all the more distinguished and his eyes are as gentle as ever.

In the garden for tea he excuses himself and heads to the stables with Isis at heel. Cora watches him go and thinks he still cuts a dashing figure in his riding trousers.

Her sigh is as audible as it is unbidden as she watches him go, and both Mary and Edith blanch at the improper implication.


	13. 62: Fingertips

Cora is distracted by thoughts of her husband all day, and she arrives in the drawing room for dinner early. She is pleased to find herself alone with him after he dismisses Carson.

When he turns to fill their glasses, Cora can't help herself. Her fingertips brush over the swell of his buttocks, tracing a faint line before tweaking firmly. She is sure her husband actually yelps as the glasses shatter to the floor, and laughter bubbles out of her.

"I'm sorry, darling. I just couldn't restrain myself."

The tips of his ears remain a flaming crimson all through dinner.


	14. 63: Waiting

Robert feels as though he's running a low grade fever all through dinner. His collar is too tight and he can't quite seem to maintain the thread of the conversation. Isobel tries several times to engage him, her expression melting to concern.

"Are you quite alright, Cousin Robert?" She asks.

He can feel Cora watching him like the hungry cat waiting for the canary and when she catches his eye, her dangerously slow grin tightens every muscle in his already tense body.

He has to wait a few extra minutes before he is able to stand up from the table.


	15. 64: Playboy

Robert might have once been a debonair young playboy, but even in his feckless youth he wasn't nearly as daring as he was with Cora.

The family is heading to the library when she slips away with a pointed glance and heads outside. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight as she peels off her gloves and drops them along the way.

He pursues her wraith-like form and when full darkness closes in, she presses herself to him from behind.

They sink to the lush grass twined together and he is terribly grateful that she has chosen to wear black.

* * *

><p><em>AN - thus endeth this mini-arc. BUT! subtle_tea offered a challenge that I cannot refuse. So keep your eyes peeled for an M rated little story I'm calling "Best Served Cold", coming to a near you in the next few hours. _


	16. 65: Revenge

By virtue of not being the headstrong or belligerent Mary, or the quietly plotting and jealous Edith, Sybil is often left to her own devices.

Where her older sisters argued, Sybil is quite compliant and therefore afforded more freedom and markedly less scrutiny. Given half the chance, both Mary and Edith would call her spoiled and the favorite, indulged and pampered for being "the last". Sybil, of course, disagrees.

In the end, the youngest, most headstrong and quietly independent daughter of the Earl of Grantham would have her revenge.

It would all start with a new frock of harem pants.


	17. 66: July

Despite learning to deal with her longing, Cora misses many things about her home. She misses the accents, the bustle, and the freedom. She misses the fourth of July celebrations, shopping with her mother, and reading with her father.

Most of all, she yearns for a place where she experiences unequivocal acceptance. True, relations with the Dowager have improved over time, but she is and always will be an outsider.

"You're an American, you don't understand." Mary says dismissively, and Cora narrowly refrains from reminding her that she has lived in England for longer than her daughter has been alive.


	18. 67: Desire

God, she wants it.

Her desire is so strong it is nearly a physical ache.

Cora can't settle herself, despite knowing her insatiable appetite would only get her into trouble in the end.

With a little groan of surrender, she rolls out of beds. She won't sleep until her hunger is sated.

She pads down the shadowed hallways, barefoot and watchful. What would the servants think if they found her at this time of night?

Need tightens her belly as she slips quietly into the room, gazing around intently.

Oh, how she hopes there is a piece of pear tart left!


	19. 68: Free

Looking at her eldest daughter in the mirror, Cora can't help but see herself thirty years earlier. Mary's a bit more world-weary and entirely more British, but still the recognition makes it all the more difficult to say the next words. They are as untrue as they are unfair; a product of their society.

_Damaged goods_.

The truth is beautiful, headstrong Mary is damaged only by being born female in an unfair time and place. She will never be truly free, to make her own decisions and her own future, and the knowledge fills her mother with sorrow.

_Damaged goods_.


	20. 69: Celebration

Hand in hand, Robert and Cora make their way upstairs.

"Mathew and Mary seem to be getting on better." Cora comments, leaning into her husband's shoulder. She holds out hope that Mary and Matthew will eventually see their way to a future together.

Robert doesn't share her idealism. He witnessed Mathew's solitary walk away from the house, an unintended consequence of Mary's bitter battle with Edith.

"It's not cause for celebration yet." Robert says sourly, disappointed in Mary's childish behavior. "Mary's behavior continues to put everything at risk."

"That's rather harsh." Cora's furrows her brow and wonders what she missed.


	21. 70: Stars

There are only a handful of hours before the flower show, a point Cora tries to make while unsuccessfully holding her husband at bay.

Robert, usually so proper, has her cornered in their room, grabby hands undoing the laces O'Brien just finished, tongue drawing circles over the skin of her shoulder. She has no idea what has gotten into him, but he seems positively giddy.

He urges her to silence and promises to be quick, his grin youthful and her resolve failing.

She reminds him that "quick" isn't the most convincing argument.

In response, he takes her to the stars.

_A/N - No lie, they looked far too relaxed and chipper at the flower show. Robert was positively ebullient, quite frankly, which makes me think he got lucky earlier that day. :D_


	22. 71: Morgue

It is singularly distressing, the way the dead wouldn't stay dead, particularly a rascal like Kemal Pamuk.

Three steps forward and two steps back, Cora thinks, every time that Turkish cad's name comes up.

It frustrates her to no end the way he constantly interferes and endangers Mary's future. Wasn't it enough he died in their home and she had to carry his lifeless corpse through endless hallways? Must he continue throwing shadow and suspicion over Mary's entire life?

If he wasn't already dead, Cora swears she would put him into the morgue herself for all the trouble he's caused.


	23. 72: Space

On the average, dinner is a comfortable affair that settles Cora. Usually there is routine, delicious food, and quiet conversation. But with her daughters locked in bitter battle and every other exchange a barb, she feels she must suit up in armor for every meal these days.

She longs for the quiet space of her bedroom, where she can escape the petty bickering and unload her woes in the arms of her husband.

Finally, after yet another needlessly pointed exchange between Mary and Edith, Cora excuses herself and retires upstairs.

She is thrilled to find Robert waiting for her.


	24. 73: Whitewash

Perhaps it had been unwise to give permission for Branson to drive Sybil to Ripon, but Cora hadn't suspected her daughter's intentions were dangerous or political.

It isn't as though Cora is attempting to whitewash Sybil's actions when trying to divert Robert's anger at the dinner table. They were having enough issues accomplishing a civil meal without this newest complication.

Robert's public and harsh chastisement is, however, an overreaction that makes her bristle, and she resolves to speak with him later that evening.

It isn't until she catches Violet trying (rather unsuccessfully) to smother a grin that she gets angry.


	25. 74: Alone

Alone in his dressing room, Robert attempts to prepare his apology. Two minutes hadn't passed after his public censure of Cora that he recognized his monumentally poor decision.

In the bedroom she wears a prim expression that means he is in trouble. It figures that she would be upset at being told off in front of the servants. She carefully arranges the blankets across her lap, self-contained and grim, and perhaps a little wounded. She knows how to stoke his guilt without much effort.

"It gave your mother the best night she's had since Christmas."

That, he does not doubt.


	26. 75: Coma

Robert would have had to be in a coma, or dead, for Cora's words not to have an effect on him.

_Naughty schoolgirl, _she said_._

He never figured himself a particularly randy man, but he finds himself paying extra attention to the swing of Cora's hips in the days that followed, fingers curling in an effort to resist embarrassing them both in broad daylight.

Late that night, under the cover of darkness, he bashfully confesses his desires to her.

Unsure of her reaction, he nonetheless _never _expected her throaty giggle.

He takes her up on her dare to try it.


	27. 76: Letters

"Papaw prefers the servants read the bible and letters from home."

It occurs to Robert as he heads upstairs, ostensibly to "revive" Cora, that he really has no control over his daughters. Had he ever, or was it an illusion? He is beginning to wonder.

He finds Cora calmly undressing in the company of O'Brien and he is boggled by her calm demeanor.

"Nothing happened that time won't cure." She says pragmatically, rubbing scented lotion onto her neck and arms. He gets the impression that Cora might actually be proud of Sybil.

Somewhere, beneath all his gruffness, so is he.


	28. 77: Telephone Call

_It cannot be_, Cora is staggered. Yet having been in this condition before, there is little doubt.

Before they leave London she telephones the telegraph office and arranges for the doctor to meet her once they arrive at Downton. She longs to talk to Robert, to apprise him of her suspicions but she cannot.

That old dread, a long-lost friend, washes over her.

_What if it isn't a boy?_

But this time, in light of Mary, Matthew and the rest, it has morphed. Now as she watches the London skyline melt into lush countryside she thinks,

What if it _is_?


	29. 78: Music

Robert finds her in the long-abandoned nursery, looking mildly shell-shocked.

Moonlight filters through the window and bathes her in a silvery glow. She is luminescent but also, in that moment, she is so very distant. She is humming a lullaby as her palm passes over her abdomen, an old habit she indulged with each pregnancy, and one she obviously hasn't forgotten.

"What are we going to do, Robert?" She asks, her words watery and loose. Dark irises eclipse the blue in her eyes; he sees straight to the heart of her terror. She cannot (will not) survive disappointing him again.


	30. 79: Silence

Hope created in Robert a cacophony of joy. Despite his misgivings, he looks forward to another child.

The loss, when it comes, is staggering.

O'Brien speaks to him, then Carson, Mrs. Hughes, his mother and the girls.

Condolences, apologies. Prayers, promises.

He hears nothing but silence, waves of empty sound. He hears Cora's hollow sigh. He hears heartbreak and sorrow and regret.

His Cora's hand is clammy and she doesn't return his squeeze; she will not look at him.

Robert is aware that he is losing much more than a son; he has no idea what to do about it.


	31. 80: Cards

Robert shuffles through the multitude of letters and cards. All are vague and polite inquiries into his health and his family.

The condolences are not directly expressed. Pregnancy and loss are not discussed openly in polite society.

Of that, Robert is thankful.

_Sorry_ is so meaningless at this moment. Cora is in pain, listless and indifferent, their very marriage steeped in a heavy fog. He cannot seem to reach her; she doesn't seem to want to be reached.

A son. Their last chance will be buried in the family plot.

The Earl of Grantham is so very far beyond _sorry_.


	32. 81: Emblem

There is a secret Cora will reveal to no one, not even her husband.

She hates Downton.

She hates what it has come to represent; it is an emblem of loss.

Each day she feels a bit of herself rip loose and become a part of its legacy of misery.

As a young girl, the imposing brick structure robbed her of her freedom and her family. Grown, it has robbed her of her wealth and the happiness of her children.

Now she buries one more life in its lands.

Soon, she fears, it will take Robert from her as well.


	33. 82: Elephant

War did not descend on Downton like a thundering herd of elephants. It was far more insidious; a thief in the night set to steal their very way of life.

Sleep evades Cora every night as she waits for the call that Robert is to leave her again. He wants to go, to prove himself and to win accolades unattainable in the country seat.

He watches the post expectantly, she with unmitigated terror.

Slowly their ranks dwindle as footmen and groom march off to their fates with a mixture of trepidation and pride.

Together at Downton, Robert and Cora wait.


	34. 83: Monopoly

Cora finds Robert at his desk in the library, deep in work or thought, and brushes a hand across his shoulders. He has lost weight in recent weeks.

He jerks from her touch; his startled reaction wounds her but he quickly relaxes and covers her hand with his palm.

"Sybil has had even more bad news." She says quietly, squeezing his fingers. She longs to bury her face against his neck, seeking comfort from his quiet strength.

"We must remember we haven't a monopoly on sorrow." Robert replies, disheartened that his daughters are now old enough to experience such grief.


	35. 84: Reality

_WHAT EVEN. Since I'm rewatching season 2, I thought I would go back and check where I left off with these. And I found one I never even posted. I'm a terrible person. I also make zero many promises that I will finish these, but there are only 16 left and it would be a shame, right? (especially since watching S2 usually means I spend at least 63% of the time pissed off.)_

Sybil is framed in the wooden window pane Mrs. Patmore and Daisy sentries on either side of her as she removes a cake from the oven. Pride heightens the color in her young cheeks and she grins at her helpers as she gently places the pan on the wooden table.

The sight affects Cora most profoundly, and her heart clenches tightly in her chest.

It is as though they have just woken from a beautiful dream only to be confronted with a stark reality.

Edith will drive. Sybil will bake.

Everything will change and Cora resolves to change with it.


	36. 85: Serenity

**85: Serenity**

Robert despises her serenity. Her calm, cool demeanor in the face of everything that has changed, is changed and will change.

His wife, usually so content to simply be, has taken charge of their home, the hospital, and suddenly he is to be an afterthought.

He cannot help his selfish thoughts, despises them even as they enter his brain. He wishes he, too, had something to take his mind off...well...everything.

The flutter of a skirt tickles his periphery and the eyes of the maid he startles are wide and guileless.

He sees something in them he misses. Desperately.


End file.
